


Thaumaturgy

by Dorian



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3721537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorian/pseuds/Dorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew having a guardian angel would be so much work? (Four moments. AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thaumaturgy

**A Day**

_They manifest a nature's sublimity. That is why Gabriel is represented with wings. Not that angels have wings, but that you may know that they leave the heights and the most elevated dwelling to approach human nature. -- Saint John Chrysostom_

 

"Wait, this is _It's a Wonderful Life_ , right? You're some _incompetent angel_ trying to get your wings." 

Merlin looks amused.

The wings unfurl, huge and sunlit, almost translucently pale. Merlin's eyes flash gold. For a moment the wings open out, beyond a human scale, beyond comprehension and no longer visible.

Then it's just Merlin, leaning back against the wall in scruffy jeans and a hoodie, indecently smug. But when Arthur blinks he sees an afterimage, the huge span of those wings. "You're not human," he says, really understanding it for the first time.

"No." Merlin's face goes blank. "I'm not."

 

**A Week**

_Each of those who is allotted a place in the Divine Order finds his perfection in being uplifted, according to his capacity. -- Dionysius the Areopagite_

 

It's so not much that Arthur is looking for Merlin, but he finds him anyway by a backdoor on the industrial side of the hospital, near the delivery bays. The ground is littered with old cigarette butts. Merlin leans against the railing, looking down at his hands, at the pavement below. In the distance ambulance sirens whine, retreating. 

Arthur isn't sure when he stopped being able to walk away and he doesn't like it. He never asked for Merlin to become his problem. He never asked for any of this. But he settles next to Merlin all the same. 

"For a guardian angel, you are a lot of trouble."

Merlin doesn't react, doesn't toss back one of his usual boasts or insults, hunched in on himself and totally blank. 

"I cured him." He sounds so puzzled. "I thought I was doing good." 

"Well, are you supposed to go around curing people?" The silence stretches out. " _Mer_ lin." 

"Our commands are rather cryptic, all right?" At least Merlin looks annoyed again. "We see the Divine according to our order and brightness." 

Arthur thinks _oh what the hell_ and throws an arm around Merlin's shoulders, making him stagger a bit. "And you apparently aren't very bright."

There's a rustling of wings, the soft brush of invisible feathers. It's a little unnerving, the gentleness of that touch. Then Merlin shrugs off his arm. His hands creep back into the pockets of his hoodie. "At least I'm brighter than you are."

And for a flash Merlin shifts, changes, a light and a flame, sharp and brilliant and stretching from the roof of the sky down into the heart of the earth. For that moment, Merlin is blinding. 

Arthur blinks. Merlin grins, finite and shockingly ordinary, pleased with himself. He reaches out to poke Arthur but stops halfway through the motion and shrugs instead. "You see me according to your nature, too." He looks wide-eyed and innocent and Arthur knows that must be an act. "You're human, Arthur. There's a lot you miss." 

That strange blankness resurfaces behind Merlin's eyes. Involuntarily, Arthur takes a step back.

Behind them is a hospital full of people who continue to die.

 

**A Month**

_This leads Aristotle in turn to the demonstrated fact that God, glory and majesty to Him, does not do things by direct contact. God burns things by means of fire. -- Maimonides_

 

Just as suddenly as it began, the hard rain stops. The cup of life glints up from the ground of the dirty alley. Its silvery edge reflects a distant light. Red stains splatter across Merlin's almost translucent wings.

Nimueh--what's left of Nimueh--lies curled against the brick wall. And, God, there is so much blood. Merlin looks down at her blankly, unmoved. All around them glistens broken glass from blown-out windows. The alley smells of blood and garbage, a dead-end. Merlin's wings spread up and out and vanish, brushing against the sky. Arthur feels sick.

"You killed her."

Merlin shrugs. "She tried to hurt you." Like it's that simple.

Merlin's back hits the wall with a satisfying jar but he doesn't wince, doesn't blink. He stares at Arthur calmly, traces of gold still flickering in his eyes.

"Stop it." Arthur punctuates the words with a shove, even though Merlin's back is to the wall with nowhere left to go. "Stop. I know you feel things." And Arthur kisses his cool unresponsive mouth, hands skimming up from Merlin's shoulders to frame his face, and thinks, _come on_. And _yes_. And finally _please_.

Merlin's hands come up between them, as though to shove Arthur away, pressing against his chest. Then with a pained and startled gasp Merlin begins to kiss him back.

 

**A Year**

_In the words of the divine David, He maketh His angels spirits, and His ministers a flame of fire: and He has described their lightness and the ardour, and heat, and keenness and sharpness with which they hunger for God and serve Him. -- John of Damascus_

 

Cars pass. Headlights paint rolls of light across the ceiling. There are two beds covered with scratchy motel quilts. Merlin presses him up against the inside of the door. 

His eyes flash gold and all the locks click shut, runes and seals seared into the wood. Merlin's hands fist in his shirt with a white-knuckle grip like he's terrified to let go. He never pulls away from Arthur's mouth, light brief kisses that blur into one long impossible kiss.

Slowly Merlin drops to his knees, staring up. His hands press flat against Arthur's body, near his hips, his belt. And it's too much, the look on Merlin's face, terror and love and a vast awful devotion.

Arthur closes his eyes and sees the slowly fading image of huge, blood-stained wings unfurled out to the furthermost corners of the sky.


End file.
